Love by Definition
by KageSakura
Summary: An EdWin drabble type thing. Completely out of nowhere. I wrote it instead of the introduction for my English paper. It's in 2nd person in Ed's POV. Yeah...Enjoy. R&R.


**A/N: Geez talk about procrastinating. You see what I do when I'm supposed to be working on final papers? Well I have to get back to work now...enjoy**

Love by definition

It comes so fast you don't see it. The pain alerts you that it hit you before you had a chance, to duck. Scream. Anything. And you wonder how she got so damn good with the thing.

And you rub your head and glare her down, promising unfortunate things at the expense of the laughter in her eyes. You know she didn't mean to hurt you, that she is just frustrated and doesn't know a logical way of teaching a knuckle head like you a lesson.

Your glare turns into a stare as her blue eyes lock with yours, silently asking questions that aren't any of her business. _Where the hell have you been doing?_

You blink and without even a single word the argument starts again.

Her blue eyes get widen when she sees the damage in good light.

_Why do you look like you had a run in with a runaway train?_

You blink again. _Can you fix it or not?_

You know you just added insult to injury. Of course she can.

Another second passes and she looks away or maybe you do. She puts her arms behind her head brandishing that evil silver bringer of pain she calls a wrench and this time she actually speaks directly.

"It's going to take about five days. I have other customers waiting you know." Yet she gives you a small smile.

"Five days is perfect."

"It's going to cost you though."

"No problem." She knows that you can pay..

"About twice the original price."

Talk about taking advantage.

"Geez, do you want my soul while your at it?"you growl.

"No, I want you to stop being such a lunkhead," she says as she makes her way down the stairs to her sacred work room. "If it costs more hopefully you know to take better care of it."

You don't say anything as you watch her descend the stairs knowing she's right.

A few days and a good eighty thousand sens later the problem is behind you and you have to hit the road again.

She doesn't say anything about how unfair it is, how you're leaving her behind. She never does, but you know you are. Your silver fingers flex and in the dim lighting and you can't help but smile as you admire another of her perfect creations.

"Thanks for the automail. It's more perfect than the last time. You just keep getting better and better, Win."

She smiles, but you see the wrench in her curled fist. "I trust you'll think twice before smashing it up."

You frown and stare out the window letting you know that hurt. "I don't just run around looking for trouble you know."

"Obviously, but it finds you easy enough."

"You say it like its my fault."

She gets up and stretches off the couch. "Of course what was I thinking? You're the great Fullmetal Alchemist. You're just doing your job, am I right? All those broken arms and legs, its just collateral damage. You have no regard for anything..." she trails off.

"Geez Winry, you just got 80,000 senz outta me, you think you could be a little nicer?"

She doesn't need to reach out and slap you, the look on her face is enough.

She makes a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a sob and you realize that is is more than about your automail.

"Sure Ed, because obviously the only reason I keep putting up with you is your money."

She storms off and you go after her and grab her arm before she can clobber you. "Winry."

"Don't you have a train to catch?" Her voice is cold like the steel she uses to create your limbs.

"I've got time."

"Let go." She starts crying and you curse yourself but hang on anyway.

"Look I didn't mean it like that. I know you're worried about me. But I'll be back in a few weeks and you'll see there won't be a scratch on any of these limbs."

You grin but she just sobs harder. "Hey...come on Win. Geez why are you always getting so teary eyed?"

"Because you're an idiot."

She snivels and wipes her tears on the sleeve of her free arm, leaving silvery streaks on her cheeks.

"You better get going." Her blue eyes are dry and her voice is determined.

You wonder how she can pretend to be so brave after breaking down and crying. As she walks you to do the door and you go through the motions of promising not to break anything, to write when you can and you wonder how she can just smile and wave back. You know you're hurting her by walking out the door but you don't turn around waving casually knowing that you're a jerk for doing so and she is probably tearing up again. Still you don't turn around.

You wonder why it hurts so much more each time. You wonder why she puts up with it, sometimes for months at a time. Years even. And it's only when you show up at the door covered in bruises, your automail a mess despite your best efforts...only when you feel the familiar pain of a wrench against your skull and you see the look in her eyes that you begin to understand.


End file.
